


The Night Before Tomorrow

by riyku



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, True Love, off-screen violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-07 22:18:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11068242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riyku/pseuds/riyku
Summary: Isak's blood is on Even's hands and he can't wash it off.  Not yet.





	The Night Before Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> a little post-karaoke coda. i'm so strung out on these boys it's borderline criminal at this point.
> 
> a huge, huge thanks to tebtosca, the best editor-in-chief a girl could ask for.
> 
> ETA: this little thing is a bit jossed at this point, what with 4x07 now existing and all, but i kinda think Even's reaction would be the same, so. y'know. i guess just roll with me on this one.

"Are you okay?"

Isak asks it and it's as if Even's the one who's been suckerpunched, like it's his eye that's swelling shut so fast, his blood dripping from his fingers. It staggers Even, makes him skip a step. He's still learning the right way to walk alongside Isak. Stand beside him. It feels more natural than anything he's ever known and still he hopes he never stops learning.

"Nobody touched me," Even says, although it's obvious. He'd been the one to catch Isak as he'd stumbled backward, pulled him away while his friends rushed in.

"That's not true." Isak pauses, spits blood onto the sidewalk and Jonas nearly runs into them. Their eyes meet over Isak's bowed head and their hands overlap on the back of Isak's neck. In Jonas, Even sees love and concern and a willingness to commit murder. The purest definition of family.

"Hospital," Jonas says, and it's enough to get them moving again.

\---

The place smells institutional, like sickness and antiseptic and it drags things up in Even that are better off buried. Isak's hand feels small and thin-boned fragile in his, still trembling. Slick with blood where their palms meet and their fingers lace together.

The nurse calls him back and Isak jumps at the sound of his name then hurries to follow her. Even's left wavering, uncertain, until Isak glances back at him, reaches out although he's too far away to touch, tells the nurse in a solid, steady voice that Even is his. He's coming.

There's a sink in the corner of the room and the nurse gives Even a pointed nod toward it. Isak's blood is on his hands, filling in the life line and the heart line and all the others he can't remember the names for. Isak's fine. Even knows he's fine. A black eye and a bloody nose has never done anyone lasting damage, but he can't wash it off, needs to carry a part of Isak on his skin, hold him there until he's home and warm and safely wrapped up in their blue-stripped blanket, tucked into their bed. 

The nurse touches Isak's face, shines lights in his eyes and asks him the date and the name of the prime minister, what he had for breakfast that morning and whether or not she needs to call the police. She pokes and prods and declares nothing broken, hands over an ice pack and a bottle with three pills in it to get him through the night. Her fingers are gentle and her expression sympathetic. This isn't the first time she's patched up a boy whose heart beats only for another boy. She tells Isak he's lucky, looks directly at Even while she does it. 

Isak nods and says, "In so many ways."

\---

Even strips Isak and puts him into bed then crawls in after him. The pain pill is kicking in and Isak is pliant, loose, beginning to talk nonsense. About how he wants to rearrange their furniture. Again. Maybe move the table closer to the door this time. He admits that he's wearing Even's socks. They're better than his. He talks about how Even's eyes remind him of the dark blue skies they rarely get to see around here, then blushes and hides against Even's chest, forgets and brushes his nose against Even and hisses at the stab, then tells him that he always wants to be the one to take the hit, how it hurts far less than the alternative.

Isak is slow blinks and slower kisses and Even makes him turn over and rest on his right side, snugs up against his back to keep him that way, hand spread wide on his chest. Over and over, he tests the heat of Isak's cheek, checks to make sure the swelling isn't going anywhere, watches as the bruising spreads and gets darker, and only gets up half-way through the night to feed Isak another pill because he can't stand the idea of Isak hurting, even in his sleep. 

Even measures time to Isak's pulse, his steady, deep breaths, nuzzles at the back of Isak's neck and presses his lips there each time he makes a sound. He wants to crack himself open and find a way to pull Isak inside, share his lungs and his heart, know each and every one of his thoughts so he can do anything it takes to keep him from getting harmed ever again.

He's still awake in the morning, when Isak stretches and yawns and rolls out of bed. Even's hand is numb from Isak using his arm for a pillow, nose full of Isak's sweat-damp hair, mouth tasting like his skin. Isak's good eye is glazed over and the other one barely opens a slice.

Even crowds him against the sink, cleans him up, warm water and gentle swipes to take off the lingering, dried blood around his nose, the drool on his cheek. 

"Do you have any sunglasses?" Isak asks, a half-joke as he touches the flesh around his eye. A galaxy of broken capillaries. 

"Don't hide. Not even the smallest part of you." Even grips Isak's hips, digs in because he knows it's safe to do that there, and kisses the edges of his black eye, makes a full circuit, then grins at him, wishing that Isak could see what he sees. "You are so fucking beautiful."

\--end

Thanks for reading!


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